Short Short Story
She walks alone, her black faded all-stars scraping the pavement. Making her way past the flickering light. Her smudged finger lightly taps the arrow as she is told to wait, though just a formality at best at 2 a.m. Across the faded white lines toward the dirt-patched side. Her chocolate hair, swaying with the gushes of wind, partially revealing the scars tattooed across her neck, continuing down below her thin grey shirt. On past the tracks, she sees her haven of peeled painted wood and cracked windows ahead. Carl is on the front porch, drowning the rest of the day away.
“Isn’t it a little late for yah?” Carl belches.
“I could say the same for you,” She Replies.
This routine of his usually starts around 9 and finishes no later than 11, but something or someone must have pushed this endeavor late. She makes her way on the steps reaching for the screen door. Before she grips, the handle the screen door swings open almost hitting her, and outcomes another girl who is a little older than she is. Her eyes are overfilled with tears.
“You have nowhere to go!” Carl yells.
“So, anywhere is better than here!” The girl replies as she crosses the wilted lawn. She makes her way past the tracks out of sight never to be seen again.
Odds are she ended up in another place similar. That's what usually happens to the girls around here. It’s all a cycle, stuck in a perpetual nightmare. Born into this, their mothers were rebellious and full of anger and resentment. Daddy issues if you want to call it that. No choice for the girls as they no nothing else. 17 and pregnant with nowhere to go, all bridges burned. The streets are no place for a pretty girl. If you need a place you will find a place.
The other girls heard about what happened outside but she didn’t pay any mind to it. After all, in a few weeks’ time, this place will be a distant memory at best, a nightmare at worst. Though it wasn’t all bad, she convinced Carl that she was of no use anymore with his business and that she can be helpful if she gets a job. He always respected her out of the rest of the girls and liked her the most. All it took for him to agree is a couple of drinks and a few choice words about how all the money made will come to him. Because the business is in a sort of a dry season and money is not coming in as much as it used to. It also helps that mother had a candle too close to the bedside and left more than noticeable marks along her arm and neck. The trauma was already there at a young age, so nightmares were commonplace in her mind and She rolled a little too far. She was only four at the time and it took a second for her and her mother to realize what happened. Turns out the customers don’t seem too fond of burn victims they take one look and that’s about it. Not too long after the discussion Carl agreed to the proposition to “make your keep” as he likes to say. So off to be a cashier at the local gas station.
She would see past and present customers come through the store, and none of them pay any mind to her. Acting like different people than the ones she had seen around the house. The job only a placeholder so she could get away eventually. Carl never knew how much she actually makes from the job, but she knew not to keep too much of her checks as he would begin to question. Luckily the job pays in cash because the owner is old-fashioned that way, but also there’s a rumor that he was part of the mafia or something and things didn’t end well; so extreme discretion is advised.
One more week and she will be set, but until then she will have to endure. She steps into her makeshift room. at least She has her own room, compared to the other girls having to share. After she got the job she convinced Carl to move to one of the service rooms that wasn’t being used.. She makes sure the coast is clear and clears her bed and props it up on the wall. The bed is twin size at best so it takes little effort to lift. Then she proceeds to move the loose floorboard to reveal a dented tin box. With faded lettering on the top of it, She never knew what it said but was always curious about what it used to say. She can make out that it’s a five-letter word but that’s about it. She begins to count the money again, just to make sure of how much she has. Finally assured and puts the tin box back under her bed and lies down. The only light in the room a small candle dripping its wax in a bowl. She stares at the candle as she lifts her shirt and touches where the candle profusely attacked her skin all those years before. The bad dream that provoked it all, still ingrained in her head. She doesn’t remember much during that time, but that dream, that dream she remembers.
She was playing on a swing that was tied to a strong oak tree, overlooking the staggering grass. It looked just like the pictures in the book that She had, that she would try to read to herself. The pictures were bright and alive. The colors jumped off the page. She thought to herself, how she would love to play there one day. But the grass starts to wave at her as the sky turns grey. The clouds begin to crowd together, making deafening sounds and bright images. But she is still swinging under the tree, as she felt safe there. But the tree started to wilt away as the leaves began to blow. Then the branch holding the swing cracks and the swing falls to the ground along with her. Then the once strong oak tree begins to uproot as the winds pick up, but yet She is still standing as these ferocious winds begin to uplift the tree and carry it away. The darkness begins to form around her as the noise of the sky becomes louder and louder, closer and closer. She wants to run but doesn’t have any strength to move. Then a roar breaks through the clapping of thunder, then she feels the burning sensation overtake her and she wakes.
It honestly looks kind of cool, like something the main character of a kickass action movie would have to signify that they are the main character. Only this isn’t a kickass movie, and the origin story is far from respectability.
